Out of the Damn Car
by ATTHS
Summary: What was Mulder dreaming about when he was woken by Joanne in Dreamland? Why was he mumbling Scully's name in his sleep?


Putting the remote down and crossing his arms with a sigh, Mulder settled into a recliner that was not his, in a home that did not belong to him, with a wife he did not know. He sighed again as he shook his head, not understanding what the hell happened and how he got here.

The woman on the television was moaning and sighing, her antics overacted, but it was almost hypnotic to him, something familiar in the current unfamiliar. He shook his head as he watched her face, wanting to laugh at how silly it was to watch simulated sex the way he did, but it was the only sex he was getting these days, so he would take what he could get.

Closing his eyes, he sighed again and let the well known sounds of mock pleasure fill his ears. He thought of turning it down, but fell asleep before he could reach for the remote.

He woke up to the smell of coffee, and was that… bacon? He sat up and saw that the television had been turned off. Rubbing a hand across his face, he stood up and stretched, following the wonderful aroma of food as his stomach grumbled.

Walking into the kitchen, he stopped short at the sight before him. Scully stood at the stove in a light blue robe, flipping pancakes.

"Scully?" he asked, confusion coursing through him.

"Hey, Sleepyhead, I was wondering when you were going to wake up," she said with a smile. "Coffee is ready and there is bacon, but if you sneak a piece before the pancakes are done, I can't be held responsible for my actions, no matter the fun that may follow." She wiggled her eyebrows at him and he frowned.

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Oh, my poor sleep deprived husband, do you need a reminder?" She set the spatula down and walked over to him, looping her arms around his neck.

"Scully," he was able to say before her lips were on his and he stood in shock, feeling her tongue licking along his lips. He opened his mouth in surprise, intent on stopping her when she tightened her grip on him and her kiss intensified. He held her waist and kissed her back, moaning as he did.

"Oh yeah, I still got it," she whispered, kissing him once more before stepping back and picking up the spatula. She flipped the pancakes as he tried to catch his breath and control the blood rushing down his body and congregating in one specific area.

"Can you grab the plates and our coffee? Thanks, honey," she said, stacking up the pancakes on a plate. He walked to the cupboard and took out the plates, frowning as he did not know how he knew where the plates were held, and also at the entire exchange taking place. _Honey? Husband?_

He looked down and saw a gold band on his finger and his head snapped up, seeing one on hers as well as she walked past him.

What was going on?

He watched her put the food on the table, her scent wafting stronger than that of the food, her robe billowing as she moved quickly. She wore a pale pink slip of a nightgown under the robe and it left little to his imagination. Her nipples stood out and it did not help his current aroused state.

She came up close to him and he pulled back as she brushed up against him, reaching for the plates in his hands. Her eyes burned into his and his mouth went dry as his blood pounded in his ears.

"Get the coffee," she said and he nodded. She frowned at him and then walked back to the table. He let out a shaky breath and then took the mugs from the cupboard, filling then with coffee, the liquid spilling a little, his hands unsteady as he poured.

He turned to bring them to the table and saw she had taken off her robe. "Holy fucking hell," he breathed, freezing in his steps. She poured syrup on her pancakes, wiping the bottle and licking her finger, making the pants he was wearing very tight.

She looked up and smiled as she took a bite. "Come on, your food is getting cold," she said, licking the syrup from her lips. He cleared his throat and walked to the table, needing to try and hide the erection he was sure would never go away.

He set her coffee down and then sat on the edge of the window bench opposite her. His eyes landed on her nipples before forcing them upward, despite wanting to stare at them and know their exact shape. He wanted to taste them and feel them harden in his mouth. The urge to bite, suck and lick them made him feel the need to excuse himself.

"You didn't come to bed last night," she said quietly.

"What?" His mind imagining the noises she would make as he kissed her breasts, his tongue trailing down her stomach.

"You okay? Your mind seems to be elsewhere. What are you thinking about?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. He exhaled an incredulous laugh and she tilted her head.

"Scully, I don't think you want to know," he said, shaking his head, the pale of her skin and the thought of her taste, nearly short circuiting his brain.

"Mulder, I always want to know what you're thinking," she said, running her finger in the pool of syrup on her plate. "Especially if it's something dirty." She brought her finger to her mouth and slowly licked it clean.

"Scully," he groaned and shifted in his seat, wondering why she would tease him this way, what all of this meant.

"You didn't come to bed last night," she said again and he swallowed, shaking his head. "And I was wearing this nightgown, Mulder." She ran her hands over her breasts and he licked his lips again, needing to have his mouth on them. "This nightgown, Mulder, and nothing else."

That was it, the entirety of his blood supply had decided to run south for the winter. He either needed to excuse himself, or he would clear the table and take her on top of it, her breasts bouncing as he thrust into her.

Before he could do either, she was standing and stepping toward him. She had the end of her nightgown in her hands and lifted it as she got closer, her thighs becoming something he very much wanted to run his fingers across on his way to the sweetest spot of her body.

She stood in front of him, the nightgown just covering the promised land, a place he knew he would never want to leave once he journeyed inside. She knocked his knee and he opened his legs, allowing her to stand between them.

"Do you want to see if I'm telling the truth?" she asked softly, her voice like honey.

"So much," he answered truthfully.

"Then do it," she said, dropping the nightgown. He looked up at her and she smiled at him, her eyes dark with desire. He put his hand on the backs of her thighs, knowing this was wrong, but unable to stop himself.

His hands slid under the nightgown and moved up, her soft skin nearly burning his fingers. Up he went until he hit her naked ass under the silky whisper of fabric.

"See how honest I am? And what you missed last night?" she breathed, her hands on his shoulders, her hips pushing toward him. "Keep going…" He nodded, lifting the nightgown and found what he was looking for, his desire overwhelming. She gripped the nightgown and pulled it off and threw it away.

"You stayed downstairs, watching that silly show when your wife was upstairs, touching herself and waiting for you to join her in bed. I was so wet for you last night and you missed it, Mulder," she said as she placed his hand on her breast. "So wet, Mulder…"

Her words and beautifully naked body made him dizzy and forget that this was still not adding up. _His wife? How?_

Not wanting to think about it too much, he squeezed her breast, her nipple hardening further as he did. He ran his thumb across it and she gasped, her head dropping back. "Yes," she breathed and his heart pounded.

"Are you wet again?" he asked, the words falling from his mouth without thought.

"Why don't you find out?" she said with a saucy smile. He moved his other hand from her ass and she opened her legs a little wider. Hesitating for a split second, she took his hand and placed it at her center, whimpering when he touched her.

Yes, she was wet, he could already tell. He ran his finger along the naked skin he found, slipping it inside of her easily. She gasped and he nearly came in his pants.

"So wet, Scully, holy shit," he said, sliding his finger in and out, his other hand still on her breast.

"Oh, Mulder," she moaned, moving her hips.

"I want to be inside you," he shocked himself again at his blatant honesty.

"You technically are," she teased as he slid two fingers inside her.

"Not good enough. I need to feel you around me, I want to fuck you," he said and wanted to take it back immediately. It was too vulgar for what he wanted, but she whimpered again and he felt her become wetter. "You… you like that, Scully? You like hearing that I want to fuck you?"

"Yes, oh God, yes. I want that too. I want you to fuck me," she panted, tighenting around his fingers. "Do it, Mulder, fuck me."

Quicker than he found possible, he was naked and she was riding him on the window bench. Her breasts were bouncing and he knew he was going to come way too fast for it to be good for her. Hands on her hips, he slowed her movements.

"What?" she asked, breathing hard. He kissed her hard, his tongue establishing dominance and letting her now this was going to go how he wanted it.

He moved her from his lap and she stumbled as she stood up. He pushed all the food off the table, not caring about the food mess or the broken dishes on the floor. Her eyes burned fire as he pulled her to him and lifted her onto the table, her breathing quick and hard.

"I told you, _I_ want to fuck _you_," he whispered before he kissed her. She pulled him closer to her, her feet at the backs of his thighs, stroking him as they kissed. "Lay back." She did as he said and he pushed her knees to her chest as he slid inside her.

"Oh, Jesus," she moaned and he thrust harder and faster, the feel and sounds too much to not simply take and enjoy the moment.

"Mulder, you feel so good, God, oh you make… oh Mulder, I'm gonna come, harder. Fuck me harder." She moved her legs and wrapped them around his back as he pounded into her harder, feeling her all around him. "Oh, my God, yesssss. Mulder…"

He felt her tighten and her legs shook around his back and the knowledge that he did that made him swell with pride and desire. His name bounced off the walls as he continued to pound into her, his orgasm building.

"Scully!" he cried as he came, gripping at her hips leaning forward as he emptied himself inside her. "Oh, Jesus, Scully. Oh… oh… mmm…. mmm…" He fell onto her neck, feeling euphoric and dizzy with what just happened.

"Mmmm, Mulder…" she whispered and he hummed. Moving his head, he took a breast into his mouth, needing to taste the nipples that had been teasing him. "Oh, yes, Mulder. You know just what I like. Aren't you glad we stopped and got out of that damn car?" Feeling himself hardening again, wondering how it could be so, he decided not to worry about it and instead focus on the woman under him.

"Scully," he whispered, kissing her breasts, swirling his tongue around her nipple. "Scully, Scully, Scully." He continued on his journey, kissing and tasting the forbidden skin he has long been denied.

He felt her push hard on his shoulder and he looked up, but she was not there, but a bright light burned his retinas. A woman was standing in front of him, hands on her hips, and he was certain it was her.

"Scully?"

"I can't believe you," the person said, but with a voice he did not recognize. She turned off the television, which he could hear was still on the sex channel. "I just can't believe you!" She stepped on the bottom of the recliner and it pushed him up into a sitting position. In that moment, he realized it had all been a dream. A wonderful, too good to be true, dream. "And who is Scully?"

"Good morning," he said, almost like a question, wondering how anyone could be so angry first thing in the morning.

"You could do me the courtesy of coming to bed. Pretend we have a happy marriage. What if Chris or Terry had come down here first? Seeing their father being a pervert! Did that ever occur to you?"

The unknown woman stomped away and he knew he needed to get out of this crazy house. Away from her and whoever Chris and Terry were, and back to his fantastic dream life. The one he had been living, in which sex with a beautiful woman superseded the need for food.

Even bacon and fluffy syrupy pancakes.

* * *

Walking out of the house half an hour later, he shook his head as he got in the car. He needed to leave, to never come back, but he knew he could not do that, he had to figure out how in the hell he was stuck in the life of Morris Fletcher and he in his.

"Oh, shit," he thought as he started the car. Scully still had no idea. He needed to contact her and tell her, but obviously not from home or anywhere at work.

Buckling his seatbelt, he backed up and drove away from the neighborhood and prying eyes. He was intent on getting to the bottom of this, getting back into his own body, and getting back where he belonged; with Scully. He shook his head again as he remembered his dream, more vivid than any of the others he had ever had of her.

_Aren't you glad we stopped and got out of the damn car?_

"No, I'm not," he said inside the empty car, with a sigh. "_I_ got out, but I was the only one." He spotted a gas station, and laughed, certain they would have a pay phone. He would call Scully and they would figure this out. Hopefully before he had to put two kids through college, and live with a wife who clearly hated him.

He sped up, needing to reach her and wanting to get out of this ugly body as quickly as he could.

Scully. She would know what to do. She always did.


End file.
